Northern Streamin': Soldotna , Alaska to Homer, Alaska

Eagles rule! We stop counting at 20. They are everywhere, soaring, swooping, perching, nesting, and looking regal. They must know they have national status. It’s in the attitude.

Thrusting upwards out of Cook Inlet are Mounts Iliamna, Redoubt, Augustine and Spurr of the Aleutian Chain. They are sizzling components in the Ring of Fire. Augustine is the most recent eruptor in 2006, but Redoubt rumbled and spewed ash in 2009.

The Aleutian Chain extends beyond the International Date Line to the Bering Sea and separates the Pacific and Arctic Oceans.

The Holy Transfiguration of Our Lord, Russian Orthodox Church is an active place of worship just off the Sterling Highway. It sits on a bluff overlooking Cook Inlet, behind a graveyard of embellished white wooden crosses; all tilted this way and that. Wild flowers grow between the grave mounds, tendering an untamed look. The clapboard siding and five turnip shaped turrets, each with a simple cross attached, add to the building’s foreign air.

Our destination is Homer. It’s located at The End of the Sterling Highway. When the formal road finishes a tiny graveled tributary allows us to continue driving out onto the Homer Spit. The Spit is a three mile or so squat strip about 100 yards wide that extends into Kachemak Bay like a crooked finger. We stop at the tip of the peninsula to gape at the 180 degree view. The mountains are plastered in front of us like a post card wall. We are simply passing spectators.

The Spit is a hub of fishing activity. Deteriorating vessels litter the sidelines; camping tents scatter along the shoreline, three para-surfers jump waves like porpoises. Crude boardwalks thread through the middle on either side of the road fronting shops, and cafes, with every other building offering a charter or selling fresh fish or something relating to fishing. The Salty Dawg Saloon is a Spit landmark identifiable by the lighthouse built into its structure. Inside, tacked to every inch of the low ceilings and rough walls are dollar bills autographed and/or adorned with messages from the ones who fastened them there. A few brasseries are mixed in and a business card or two. The dress code is no dress code, in fact just get off the fishing boat and come on in, the smellier you are, the better you’ll fit in.

We find an RV park of sorts where the spaces are marked off with fishing buoys. We back right up to the water, so close it’s lapping at our bumper. An eagle is perched on a lofty post across the way. Who’s watching who?

We’re surrounded by fishermen. While we’re feasting on fresh-out-of-the-water halibut, in this Halibut Capital of the World; they’ve been out on the water all day and are having brauts for dinner. How do we know? They knock on the trailer door wanting to borrow our mustard. Happy to be neighborly!

Just at the approach to the only stop light in town is a massive eagle’s nest. Mama sits proudly nurturing her young eaglets while tourists and townspeople alike cruise by.

Wildlife count: 20 bald eagles

Airstreams: 1

Miles: 105

Gratitudes: PKB: majestic mountains JMB: fresh halibut

Gin Score: J: 1895 P: 1910